How Pride Goes
by The Dragon Lover
Summary: Gangrel has never written a letter, for anything. He lets his voice and his actions force others to get him what he wants. But there are some people out of reach of such tactics. So, on a whim, he writes. -Written for LJ writing comm, WriterVerse. Semi-related to "husk."


**Title:** How Pride Goes  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Fandom:** Fire Emblem ( _Awakening,_ semi-related to "husk")  
 **Warnings:** Mentions of war, death, and suicide; mild profanity; spoilers to FE:A endgame

* * *

"To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you." -Lewis B. Smedes

* * *

(A newly finished letter was set aside as if on a whim, one corner slightly burnt.)

.

Dear Stranger

You don't know me, before you ask. You likely never will. I'm not even entirely sure why I'm writing this, to be frank! I have no obligation to you, or to an old memory. Years have passed since I last thought of my childhood. Since, I've become Gangrel, king of Plegia, and I've held this hatred for all Ylisseans proud above my head! I want the whole lot of them to kneel before me as their rightful ruler!

Well, there was one Ylissean I didn't hate so much. The old hag was a prisoner of war, kept in my hometown for endless slave labor. Captured during one of the last battles, she was worked to the bone, with her broken, unsteady hands. Actually, she wasn't really a hag, but she seemed so much older than me at the time that it was the easiest thing to call her: Hag. She didn't seem offended by it, but she didn't seem offended by much back then. She was a jaded, bitter old hag.

In her hag-dom, she eventually grew tired of me undoing all of her hard work - harder still because of her hands - and confronted me like she had a say in anything. Can you believe it? A slave, telling _me_ what to do? I was furious! Got her into extra trouble after that. And then she had the nerve afterwards to give me bread, swearing up and down that she would just puke it up if she ate anything. Perhaps it was true - being a prisoner isn't exactly kind on the body - but the kindness she tried extending was absolutely unwelcome. What a fool!

Then I got caught trying to steal from one of the masters. I wasn't afraid! But I didn't like the sight of that whip cracking towards me. And I won't forget the pain on the old hag's face when she was whipped, after she made a distraction to give me a chance to escape.

I couldn't help but sneak into the slave quarters where they slept in cells come nighttime. I found her nursing wounds and accused her of being an idiot. What was she expecting would come about pissing off her masters for a little hoodlum like me?

That was when she first spoke of you, Woman-I-Don't-Know. She spoke of the daughter left home alone. "I had to save one child," she said. It was the first time I saw a woman cry so quietly, and it disgusted me. I gave the slaves a wide berth for several days.

But I'm a curious sort, Unknown Woman. Despite the pain of that man's whip, I ended up following the hag around sometime after, hungry for more stories. What was her name? Why had she joined the Ylissean army? What had been her inevitable downfall, landing her here? She told me she was known as Talise, and her studies of magic had spurred her to become a sage and a soldier. I ended up mockingly calling her Tali Sage, because she was stupid to have gotten caught like this and ruin her quaint little life. Her stories were entertaining, though.

Most questions about war she didn't answer, for some stupid reason like my age. As if I didn't live the results of it. But she had a disturbing habit of gushing about you when given the chance, and inevitably every story led to her saying she missed you. She didn't cry anymore, to my relief, but she always told me how she thought you and I would be great friends. What a crock _that_ was! I hated Ylisseans even then, and it was only because she was Plegia's prisoner that I hated her a bit less. Still she swore that up and down, and maybe the curiosity has followed me even here on my golden throne. That must be why I'm writing this. It's not as if I'll actually send this.

It's trivial to say, since I'll likely burn this letter soon enough, but your mother died in Plegia, as a slave. Ylisseans rained belated vengeance upon my village, destroying every building like the nasty maggots they are. Few survived - somehow, I did - but no one had cared to save the prisoners. Everyone inside had perished.

I suppose I miss Tali Sage. She was always full of stories to keep me interested, even when they were filled with the Ylisseans I despised. Despite where she came from, she was kind in her bitterness, and she didn't look down on a Plegian runt like me, stealing and lying to survive. She was the only one I'd have kept alive of the whole lot, if I'd had the power back then.

Now as king, I can do whatever I like! People bow to me, no longer a dirty, homeless boy reduced to rags and scraps. I have magnificent feasts, and soon I plan to have Ylisse on its knees to swear their fealty to their new ruler! I clawed through this broken country to earn this role, and I will relish your precious Exalt's dying screams. It would give me no greater pleasure.

But fear not! I'll gladly spare you, if I ever _do_ happen to find you amongst the vile filth of your realm. If you're even alive! Then it'd be a shame you've lived there as long as you have. I guess I could forgive you for that; it's not as if Tali Sage could have _brought_ you with her into war, and kept you after her capture.

It's entertaining to imagine us as siblings! The idea is funny, as I've never had much in the way of family. Tali Sage tried her damnedest, of course, from a disturbing need to mother a child with her own out of reach. I know she said you were older, but regardless I can't be the younger brother. I'm much stronger, after all. You'll get over it in time.

...bah! I've rambled far too long, for such a pointless letter. So I'll bid farewell to my invisible, nameless, and probably long rotted Almost Sister. May we avoid gutting each other on the battlefield!

Gangrel, King of Plegia

.

(It was later tucked away for safe-keeping: Too trivial to have out, but entertaining enough to save from the fire.)

* * *

(This letter is slightly worse for wear, written on the road.)

.

Dear Stranger

Your adopted brother has been quite busy, I'll have you know! Perhaps you've heard? Maybe a little something about starting a war? Ha, I'll bet you did! I wish I could have seen your face!

This is only the beginning, too. It was simple enough to kidnap that nasty brat; there are far better ways at poking the soft, fleshy parts of your country. Your royalty wear their hearts on their sleeves, for which I am forever grateful. The moment the little princeling thought I would touch a hair on his precious sister's head, eager steel sang and cleaved my men in two! Imagine how he would react to me targeting her for real!

Is that how brothers are supposed to act? I _would_ be all too happy to rip apart a man swinging an axe at your skull. Then again, I'd be happy to rip apart any warrior! So much more satisfying than swearing fealty to something so sentimental and worthless as "peace." The kind won through my realm's sacrifice. Pah! I'll take war over that lie!

Would you fight me, Almost Sister? Would you gather up your mother's magical talents in an effort to fight me off? Would you protect your false peace? Raised in such disgusting surroundings, you would. A shame you weren't born Plegian. I can imagine having a mage worthy of Tali Sage's old stories would come in handy. Aversa is useful, true, but I much prefer her in my bed than on my battlefield. She has her _own_ agenda out there.

I wonder what you might look like. All I can imagine is a shorter Tali Sage. Not knowing might eat me alive!

Oh, well. It doesn't matter. I'm taking steps to reclaim the pride Plegia was robbed of. It will come at a high price, one Ylisse isn't prepared to pay.

I cannot wait.

Gangrel, King of Plegia

.

(This one was shoved carelessly into a pocket, where it would be forgotten in favor of celebration.)

* * *

(There was another letter written within a Plegian castle, handwriting steady and smug.)

.

Dear Stranger

Another pointless letter, but I simply had to at least pretend I had family to share the news with. Life is grand for ol' Gangrel! I've succeeded in crushing Ylisse's spirits and sending its Exalt to her graceful demise! I'm positively giddy just remembering it!

Oh, you're probably as sad as the rest of them. Boo hoo! She got her just desserts. It's revenge for the destruction her family has caused Plegia! If you could understand that, I guarantee you'd feel a lot less sympathy for that wench! But I won't waste my breath, if we ever do meet. You'll just have to get over it yourself.

You should have seen the princeling's face! I've never broken a man so completely before, in such a spectacular fashion. I've really outdone myself this time.

But I can imagine Tali Sage now, probably spouting some nonsense on Plegians and Ylisseans getting along just as she did about you and I. She must have been ill in the head for _that_ idea. I can imagine how horrified she'd be to see me now! Bet she wouldn't have been so glad to take that whipping for me!

I _am_ a bit grateful for her presence back then, of course. She was entertaining, and her death showed me the truth of most Ylisseans in power. They destroyed without discrimination, ending the lives of their own as easily as they did ours. And Chrom called _me_ a monster? Ha! He should've been in Plegia during his father's reign!

If you were to turn out to be one of those corrupted Ylisseans, I'd have to gut you as well. No hard feelings, sweetheart. But I'm not letting _anyone_ get in the way! Plegia _will_ rise from the ashes of its past defeat, becoming the largest empire in all the realms! The Valmese will be as harmless as a tumbleweed compared to our might!

Maybe I could recruit you, if we met. Surely you inherited Tali Sage's penchant for magic. Now, I never saw it, but she claimed talents in it, and if so you would make a valuable asset to my army! Perhaps I'd put you in command of the Grimleal who've joined my ranks, to keep an eye on them. A king can never be too careful.

Listen to me go! I ramble just like Tali Sage! Wouldn't she be proud? I'm not religious by any means, but perhaps she watches over the realms as a spirit and influences the world. Or maybe it's just funny thinking of her watching me spread carnage to her people.

Here's to hoping I haven't accidentally offed you, Almost Sister!

Gangrel, King of Plegia

.

(It's hidden with the first; the secret drawer is shut away with a cackle.)

* * *

(There are signs of various stops and starts on this letter.)

.

Dear Stranger

I am strong. Plegia is strong. I'm not writing to you in fear of failure.

I can feel something indescribable on the wind. Surely it is victory, the sweet victory I shall have with that princeling's head on a silver platter. But it's heavier than I expected. And there are whispers. I don't much care for the somber tones in my army. This is supposed to be my moment of triumph! There is no _time_ for foolish reminiscing!

I will descend upon those maggots like crows, picking their corpse of a nation bare.

If only you weren't Ylissean, Almost Sister. Your loyalties will always be at odds with mine. It's the one thing I can't stand about you - or the thought of you, at least. A woman I've never met, and likely never will.

Are you dead? Do you rot in the ground just like your precious Exalt?

I'll admit, the idea isn't quite as funny as I might have thought before.

My army is strong. I am strong. I will not fail.

Gangrel, King of Plegia

.

(It is crumpled and thrown into that secret place.)

* * *

.

* * *

(Written in the blood that splatters like paint on war's canvas.)

.

Sister

I failed.

G

.

(A body hitting the ground echoes like a closing drawer.)

* * *

.

* * *

.

* * *

(In the quiet of a humble tent, this unfinished letter sits.)

.

Dear Sister

Years have passed since I last took up a quill for a letter... I'm not sure I'll even finish. It's so pointless. Everything is.

I've been a dog on some fool's ship, scrubbing floors and emptying chamber pots. I was thrown at the front of the captain's assault as fodder to protect his other men. And then I was found and taken by Chrom, thanks to his bleeding heart.

Oh, how far I've fallen since the golden days.

There isn't a divine reason for my continued existence... more like a curse. It doesn't matter that I deserve a gruesome, painful demise. I cannot die. Not on the blade of that blasted man, as king or slave. Not even by my own hand. I tried to step off the plank, into the rough night sea. I didn't get over the side.

I'm pathetic.

Now I'm here, under every watchful eye in Chrom's camp, especially his prized tactician. Somehow, I was convinced to let them leash me to their cause. How had he put it? I believe he told me to throw my life at Grima, if I was going to throw it away at all. Ha! What a fool, to think he could defeat a god.

...Grima. The Fell Dragon so reverred by the religious nuts of my country. Hard to believe he's more than just a fairytale. But I just have to look west across the ocean to see the permanent storm of his presence. Do you see him? Does it strike fear in you, like it does in me?

I never wanted this. I never wanted _any_ of this.

When will the gods have their fill of my suffering?

I've never missed Tali Sage more than in this moment. Do you miss her, too? I never felt much for my own family. Maybe she abandoned you to fight in that war, and the carelessness that led to her capture stemmed from simply not caring. ...no, she cared for you deeply. You were all she could talk about. Is it ridiculous to be jealous of someone I've never met?

But you had Tali Sage. If not physically, than in spirit. Everything she did was with the thought of her daughter.

Perhaps that why I'm still here, even after all I've done to deserve death. My kingdom has fallen. My pride chokes on empty accomplishments. The stories of a long-dead war prisoner are all I have left.

I want to know what became of the young girl Tali Sage always talked about.

...I likely won't live to see that goal. The others might - gods know, if anyone can rewrite their destinies, it's Chrom and his damn Shepherds - but I don't have the luxury of hope. My cruelty has ruined more lives than can be redeemed.

Perhaps Grima's return is my fault, in the end. I don't deserve a second chance.

But... if my selfishness could sustain me just a little longer... then maybe...

.

* * *

.

(The future remains unwritten.)

.

* * *

 **Prompt(s):** Adopted Brother, Fear  
 **Word Count:** 2461

* * *

 _-Dragon_


End file.
